


Red Sky at Morning

by pendrecarc



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23010106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendrecarc/pseuds/pendrecarc
Summary: It starts as a quiet, grasping thing, at the tipping point one evening when it becomes obvious neither of them will make it home from work.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Comments: 7
Kudos: 59
Collections: Writing Rainbow Red





	Red Sky at Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [indefensibleselfindulgence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/gifts).



> (or, The Rusty Quim. Sorrynotsorry.)

It starts as a quiet, grasping thing, at the tipping point one evening when it becomes obvious neither of them will make it home from work. Daisy asks for help with her shoes. Bending over for any length of time is still difficult. Usually that would be Basira’s task, but she’s gone for the moment and hasn’t said when she’ll be back. So Jon does it in her place, kneeling down at the foot of the cot they’ve all slept in at one point or another and unlacing each shoe to slide it off. He's careful but not particularly gentle. Her left sock is worn through at the toe.

From there it’s only one more step over the line to get the track pants out of her bag. Then one more to unzip her trousers, and that’s the point where either of them should probably say something but Daisy is so tired of feeling nothing but tired and Jon hasn’t seen a single friendly face all day. So he keeps going, and he has the track pants halfway up her thighs when his hand takes a detour up and inside and just—stays there, working her, slowly at first to remember the rhythm of it and then a little more urgently when she folds forward over him, breathing faint gasps into his ear. It’s been a long time for her, too; a long time when she was pressed in much too close on all sides to hold anything inside her. Now she makes up for it by opening her thighs as wide as she can, the better to feel the dry, chill air of the archives and the heat of Jon’s breath against her skin.

He buries his face in her knee and his fingers between her legs and closes his eyes, because he’d rather not see anything at all right now. She threads a hand into his hair and holds him there, her little finger pressing gently across his temple and just touching the corner of his eye.

When she comes, it’s almost an afterthought, for all it leaves her shaking and even weaker than what's become her usual. He doesn’t look up. She doesn’t move her hand. Eventually, they might both be able to sleep.


End file.
